I play my part as she sings me to sleep

Taylor calls for me from those stairs in Italy

I’m walking by a pay phone on the beach

Reminders from the East and a girl named Cicily

Talk me into circles out of reach

Send letters won’t you son to remind us what you’ve done

Don’t be a stranger call us once a week?

I buried what was left of my heartache in a trench

On that lonesome stretch of sand I was released

Now Bret he reads the lines in the background of my mind

There’s no one in this room to hear me sing

When journaling in thought feels like a raven’s claw

It’s Taylor who sits calmly next to me

The grass rests underneath her cheekbone by the sea

While chemicals channel flowing dreams

It’s 8am in August while I pour the gin and tonic

Listening to the ocean’s cresting wave

The cobblestone in Rome for which once walked me home

Now Cicily I hear her gently speak

There’s no such thing as time, if you believe that then that’s fine

But darling I’ve got no tears left to weep

I did my best to please the priest listening to me

Still Lucas rest assured me of my grief

I didn’t have to sail to France to find a girl to dance

I just went out every night for one last drink

So now as Taylor calls to me from those stairs in Italy

I pick her up once more from memory

I play my part as she sings me to sleep

I pick her up once more from memory

I play my part as she sings me to sleep

When Vonnegut takes shots at war

When Vonnegut takes shots at war

he doesn’t do with rifle or

fight with claims to settle scores

though prisoner he’d been before.

When Vonnegut takes shots at war

his words like steel are sharp and coarse

no fluff or zeal just fond remorse

for those who buried their loved and more.

When Vonnegut takes shots at war

his style’s frank no either or

like shrapnel strikes straight to the core

if death must come than make it pure.

When Vonnegut takes shots at war

his battle’s fought with valor worn

like Stars and Stripes and bones ashore

still “so it goes” forevermore.

two drifters anew

Their love before friends

as it always begins

then the world spun round

again and again.

Friends for the last

few phases of moon

the universe beckons

neither one to choose.

Spoken rather wisely

alone though in tune

while the world spun again

with nothing to lose.

Eyes look to the West

in Africa too

Eyes look to the East

this Hollywood noon.

There’s nothing to pardon

and no more to do

angelic they parted —

two drifters anew.

a deer in headlights

Some days
staring into space
is all
a boy can do.

Like a deer in headlights
an accident waiting to happen.

Others
the act
is a blinding
waste of time.

The difference is clear as night.
It can go either way.

Updates, Headaches, and Suppertime

The more my browser

tells me it’s out of date

the more, out of date

I feel. Perhaps

it’s time for an update.

Perhaps, it’s time for a meal.